


Panic Room

by Spannah339



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood, Father son relationship, Gen, Hallucinations, Sick Fic, kind of not really
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-06-08 19:24:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15250332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spannah339/pseuds/Spannah339
Summary: Viruses that spread through the androids weren’t uncommon in the months after the uprising. One or other faction of android haters would figure out a virus that would cause harm or discomfort for the androids and spread it. They became much like a common cold or sickness for the humans, and the androids just learned to live with them.Connor had managed to avoid the viruses so far, mostly because he wasn’t in contact with many androids – sure he visited Markus and Jericho regularly, but he spent most of his time among the humans.So he didn’t worry much for his own safety when he and Hank were called out to a case involving an android who had attacked a human on the street, seemingly for no reason.(title changed from It's All in Your Mind)





	1. Chapter 1

Viruses that spread through the androids weren’t uncommon in the months after the uprising. One or other faction of android haters would figure out a virus that would cause harm or discomfort for the androids and spread it. They became much like a common cold or sickness for the humans, and the androids just learned to live with them.

              Connor had managed to avoid the viruses so far, mostly because he wasn’t in contact with many androids – sure he visited Markus and Jericho regularly, but he spent the majority of his time among the humans.

              So he didn’t worry much for his own safety when he and Hank were called out to a case involving an android who had attacked a human on the street, seemingly for no reason.

              The crime scene was on a semi-busy road, police tape cutting across the sidewalk. The victim was alive – being tended to by an ambulance crew – and the suspect was nowhere to be seen.

              “He was an android,” the victim said as Hank interrogated her. “No way a human is that strong. Besides, he was bleeding blue.”

              Connor scanned the crime scene, taking in what had happened. Apparently, the suspect had been running from something only he could see, stopped suddenly and lunged at the victim for no reason – there were a number of witnesses who had seen it all go down. The victim had managed to pull a knife from her bag and defend herself, causing the suspect to flee.  

              Their job now was to find the suspect. Which wouldn’t be a difficult job, considering the trail of thirium it had left once it ran.

              Connor followed the trail, staying alert in case he was ambushed as he moved into one of the narrow allies leading off the sidewalk.

              The ally was a dead end, a large brick wall blocking the way. And the thirium trail ended. Connor turned, scanning the alley for any sign of the suspect. A figure was crouching beside the bins along the wall.

              Connor moved towards it to see a shaking, terrified AP700 model. He crouched, holding out his hands to show he meant no harm.

              “Hello,” he said, and the android flinched away. “My name is Connor – I’m not going to hurt you.”

              “No. Go away. Beast,” the android said, holding his arms over his head. “Don’t hurt me.”

              “I won’t,” Connor said. “I’m here to help.”

              “They’re going to kill me,” the android whispered, lowering his arms slightly. His eyes were wide and fear filled.

              “No one is going to hurt you,” Connor said. “But why did you attack the human?”

              “Human? No. No, she wasn’t human. She was a monster. Blood. Her face was…” he shuddered, burying his face in his knees.

              “She wasn’t a monster,” Connor said. “Now please, you have to come with me. I can help you.”

              He looked up, his eyes wet with tears.

              “I – I don’t know what’s real,” he whispered. “I don’t know. I don’t…”

              “We can help you.” Connor held out his hand and the android slowly reached out his own to take it. Gently, Connor helped him stand.

              He slowly led the other android out of the ally to where Hank was waiting, still talking to the witnesses and victim. Heads turned in their direction as Connor emerged, and the android beside him shrank back.

              “He’s not himself,” Connor called loudly. “He needs help – not to be locked up.” He handed the android off to one of the medical crew – making sure she was an android, he didn’t really trust the humans to give the obviously sick android the help he needed – and joined Hank.

              “That was easy,” Hank said, rubbing his chin. Connor nodded, watching as the scene was packed up. “Sounds like your man was seeing things.”

              “He was experiencing some kind of hallucination. Perhaps a new virus that has surfaced,” Connor answered.

              “You be careful, okay,” Hank said as he turned back to the car. “Don’t want you freaking out on me like that.”

              “I’m sure I will be perfectly alright, you don’t need to worry,” Connor said. Hank just grunted, lowering himself into the car.

 

              A few days later and they were going through information about their current case. Connor was idly watching a spider crawl across his desk as Hank listed what they knew.

              “Four different cases, all very similar and based around the same area,” he said.

              “All anti-android?” Connor asked as the spider made its way over his keyboard. Hank nodded.

              “But specific – only attacking in the evening, and only attacking small groups – not isolated androids or groups bigger than five. Badly damaging some but leaving others untouched.”

              “Like they want to let them get away to spread the word,” Connor muttered. He glanced over at his partner. “Any links in the android’s models?”  
  
              Hank shook his head.

              “No. Seems random. All different makes, all released at different times.”

              “Random acts of violence, all done by the same group?” Connor suggested. Hank nodded slowly. He shifted, tapping his screen a few times.

              “The information’s on your terminal,” he said. “See if you can spot something I can’t.”

              Connor nodded, turning to his screen. He went to place his hands on the keyboard but stopped, glancing down to make he wasn’t going to squash the spider.

              It was staring up at him with human eyes. He stared back, suddenly terrified. Then he quickly flicked it away, moving perhaps a little too fast. It vanished onto the floor and Connor felt the terror subside.

              Hank cast him an odd look but he didn’t pay any heed to it, turning to his terminal. It was probably nothing. He just hadn’t charged enough last night – or someone else in the office was playing a trick on him. That was all.

              But he couldn’t shake the fear he had felt and how _wrong_ that spider had looked, no matter how much he focused on the case.

 

              They moved out not long later, another similar case having been just called in. The attack had happened in a small bar – a place that androids frequented – and had been attacked during a quiet hour when there were only a few patrons.

              Connor didn’t pay much attention to the briefing – he was already pretty sure he could tell what happened. Four androids and two humans were in the bar, not including the human bartender. The suspects had entered the bar, cut the lights and attacked the androids.

              The lights were still out and the building was lit only by a few lamps the police had brought with them. This cast a strange light over the whole establishment as Connor knelt to investigate a small puddle of blood – human blood, it might help him learn who the suspects were.

              “Connor that’s disgusting,” Hank shot at him as he dipped his fingers into the blood. Connor looked up to tell Hank – once again – that this was how he did his job when he froze.

              Hank was covered in blood. His hands were stained red and his face was dripping. His shirt was torn and tattered and he looked like he was about to collapse. What had happened? Connor hadn’t looked away for long – had he been attacked? How had that happened so quickly?

              “Hey, Connor. You good?”

              He blinked, shaking his head, and suddenly the blood and torn clothes vanished. He braced himself against the floor and nodded slowly.

              “Y – yes. Just a trick of the light,” he said, trying to calm himself. That was all it was – the dim light had caused him to see something that wasn’t there. That was all. He rubbed an eye, trying to remove the image from his memory.

              “You sure?” Hank asked, sounding sceptical. “You look like you’d seen a ghost.”

              Connor shook his head, hoping to keep Hank from worrying.

              “I am alright,” he said. “I just experienced a small glitch – nothing that can’t be fixed.” That would keep Hank off his back until he figured out what was going on – if it had just been a trick of the light or if he was malfunctioning.

 

              They arrived home late. Connor could tell Hank was tired, and he wanted to sit down and run a diagnostic to make sure he was functioning properly.

              Hank stuck the key into the door and pushed it open, yawning as he did. They had made some headway in the case – the blood Connor identified was none of the patrons in the bar, and now they just had to wait until someone spotted the man who had been identified. Despite looking all over the bar for any further leads, they had come up empty and were forced to call it a day and head home.  

              Connor moved into the house behind Hank, feeling himself relax as he did. He had been on edge ever since seeing Hank covered with blood, but now in the safety of home he could feel safe.

              But he froze, staring into the kitchen. The window was smashed and the chairs lay scattered around the floor. But what froze him in his tracks was Sumo.

The dog was lying on the floor, in a puddle of his own blood. He was limp, silent, still. Connor didn’t know what to do, staring blankly at the dog.

“Connor?” Hank’s voice sounded far away and distant as he stared at Sumo. He stepped forward, unable to believe what he was seeing. Someone had broken into the house and killed Sumo.

“Sumo?” he whispered, hoping for any kind of reaction from the dog. But there was nothing. His LED was flashing red and he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t process what he was feeling. Sumo. Was Sumo really gone? No more walks, no more cuddles, no more playing ball. No more Sumo.

He made it to the kitchen, dropping to his knees beside Sumo. No. Why would someone kill the dog – despite his size he was harmless. But he couldn’t deny the evidence – Sumo wasn’t moving.

“Connor! Snap out of it, come on!” Hank grabbed his shoulder turning Connor to face him. Why wasn’t he reacting? Sumo was dead. Why wasn’t Hank as shocked as Connor? “What’s going on, kid?”

              “Sumo, he…” he trailed off, turning back to look at the dog.

              “Sumo’s fine, Connor,” Hank said, “He’s alright – what are you on about?” Connor blinked, trying to process the words. Was Hank in denial? Sumo obviously wasn’t fine.

              But when he turned back to Sumo, nothing was there. A flutter of panic bloomed in his chest – what was going on?

              “W-what?” he asked, turning back to Hank.

              “Sumo’s okay – he’s right here, see.” Hank moved, revealing the dog behind him. Relief rushed through Connor and his LED slowly turned back to blue. Sumo gave a small whine and padded towards them and Connor wrapped his arms around the dog.

              He had been so sure that Sumo was dead. Something was very wrong with his optical unit.  
  
              “You alright?” Hank asked, standing. Connor nodded, standing as well but leaving one hand on the dog.

              “I – I’m alright,” he said, trying to calm himself fully. He glanced back to the spot he had seen Sumo, just a moment before, but all he could see was the kitchen floor. The kitchen itself was in perfect order – just as they had left it that morning. “I think my optical unit is malfunctioning,” he said. “I thought I saw…” he trailed off, not wanting to put the scene into words. “I’ll undergo repairs tonight.”

              “You sure it’s nothing more?” Hank asked. “You seemed pretty spooked – and you’ve been acting strange all day.”

              “I’m alright,” Connor said. “It’s nothing I can’t fix.”

              “if you say so,” Hank muttered. Connor nodded, looking back down as Sumo as if to confirm that the dog was still there.

 

              They were called in early the next day – a lead had been found for their case. One of the suspects had been seen entering a motel about a twenty minutes’ drive from Hank’s house.

              “You sure you’re good for this case?” Hank asked, glancing at Connor as they sped through the streets. Connor nodded.

              “Everything is in order,” he answered. “I ran repairs last night and should be functioning at full capacity – don’t worry about me.”           

              Hank grunted.

              “If you see anything strange, let me know, alright?” he said, and Connor nodded.

              “Of course,” he said.

              They arrived at the motel and talked with the owner, who said he hadn’t seen anyone who looked like the man on the image Connor showed him.

              “I think we’ll search around a bit anyway,” Hank said, and the owner nodded.

              “Just – don’t break anything please,” he said nervously.

              “Don’t worry, we don’t intend to disturb anyone,” Connor said.

              They worked their way from opposite ends of the motel, checking rooms and knocking on doors. About five minutes into the search, Hank let out a loud shout.

              “It’s him Connor!” he shouted from one of the rooms, and Connor turned to him in time to see a figure bursting away down the street. Without hesitating, he took off at a run.

              He ran through the streets, ducking through the sparse crowd and keeping on the tail of the man. He ducked into a building and slammed the door in Connor’s face. Connor slammed his shoulder into the door a few times before bursting into the building.

              He slowed, taking stock of his surroundings. It was run down and decrepit – obviously a place that should have been demolished long ago. Wary, he withdrew his gun and moved through the building.

              Silence greeted him as he made his way through the rooms. A silence so unnerving that Connor began to wonder if he really was in the right place – what if he still wasn’t functioning properly and had misread the situation?

              Then a gunshot rang through the building and he pushed those thoughts back, pounding through the rooms in the direction of the shot.

              The suspect was cowering in the corner, his gun raised and Hank was standing in front of him, his own gun trained on the man they had been hunting.

              Just as Connor began to relax another gunshot rang through the room and the world seemed to slow.

              Hank staggered back, blood blossoming over his chest. Connor lunged forward in a vain attempted to stop the bullet from hitting its mark, an animal scream bursting from his throat as his LED flashed red.

              “Hank!” The suspect scrambled out of the room, leaving Connor alone with the bleeding lieutenant.

              “No, no, no, no, no, no,” Connor cried, skidding to his knees beside Hank. “No!” This couldn’t be true. His heart was beating quickly and he cradled Hank in his lap. “Hank!” His voice broke as he tried to stop the bleeding in vain.

              He couldn’t do anything but watch as Hank’s eyes glazed over and his hands dropped limply.

              “Hank please don’t go.” Tears were leaking from his eyes despite his efforts to stop them.

              “Connor?”

              He spun, taken by surprise at the voice. Standing behind him was Hank – except it wasn’t Hank. His eyes were completely black and his face distorted, giving Connor a deep sense of unease and fear. It wasn’t Hank – it was some monster taking the form of Hank.

              He scrambled back, dragging Hank’s body with him as he tried to get away from the monster. It stepped forward.

              “You alright? What’s going on?” it asked. Its voice was low and _wrong_ , putting Connor more on edge than he was already.

              “Go away,” he whispered, pulling Hank’s body close to him. “Please. Leave me alone.”

              “Woah, hey calm down Connor.” The monster crouched, its body language seeming unthreatening – but Connor knew better. It wanted to kill him.

              Hands shaking, Connor grabbed the gun Hank had dropped, raising it to level with the monster in front of him.

              “Hey, woah, it’s me.” The monster raised its hands, moving back slightly. “Connor, come on kid. This is all in your imagination – whatever you’re seeing it’s not real.”

              “No,” Connor whispered. How could it not be real? He could feel Hank’s still warm body pressed against him, he could see the monster looming over him, could smell the fresh blood in the air. How could this be fake?

              “It’s a virus. Remember the android you found the other day? He must have transferred the virus to you and it’s only begun to take effect recently.”

              His LED turned to yellow as he listened – hoping the monster was right. Hoping that despite the story his senses were telling him this was all fake. Because if it wasn’t – if it was true...

              He looked down at the limp form of Hank cradled in his lap. It couldn’t be true.

              “Hank?” he asked, looking up at the monster. The distortion on its face seemed to slip and for a moment he could see Hank, crouching in front of him, worrying painted on his face.

              “It’s me, kid,” he said. Then suddenly, the limp form of Hank vanished from his arms and the monster turned into his friend. He let out a sob of relief and lowered the gun, allowing himself to be pulled into Hank’s embrace.

              “I’m sorry,” he whispered as he gripped onto Hank, scared that he would turn out to be imaginary and fade away as well. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. It seemed so real.”

              “It’s okay, son,” Hank said, his solid presence comforting. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

              “I don’t know what’s real,” Connor whimpered, suddenly understanding the fear the other android had felt. Hank shifted, moving back to look him in the eye.

              “I’ll help you figure it out, okay? We’ll get through this. I heard a cure was found for this particular virus – you’ll be up and running fine in no time, alright?” He pulled Connor into his embrace again and Connor closed his eyes, his LED returning to blue as he let himself believe that everything would be alright.

               

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> so this was gonna just be a one-off but I couldn't get the idea out of my head and people seemed to want more so here you go! (not as good as the first chapter but oh well)

              The cure Hank had heard about turned out to be a false rumour. Connor gripped Hank’s arm tightly as they spoke to the receptionist at the new android hospital, needing the assurance that he was real.

              “I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head slightly. “The cure for that particular strand of virus hasn’t been perfected yet. We can’t risk prescribing it until we know for sure that it'll work.”

              Hank swore and Connor fought back the panic that was threatening to overwhelm him. He needed that cure – how could he function if he didn’t know what was real?

              “I’m sorry,” the receptionist said. “But we can’t do anything for a while yet. He can stay here until something becomes available?” She nodded in Connor’s direction and her eyes flashed briefly black, filling Connor with terror.

              “No,” he said quickly, tightening his grip on Hank’s sleeve. Even though he knew it wasn’t real, the thought of staying in this strange place alone, unable to tell what was real or not terrified him. “No, please don’t make me stay, Hank.”

              “It’s alright, I won’t make you do anything,” Hank said and Connor felt himself calm a little. The longer he stayed in this building the more it felt _wrong_. The nurses moving through the halls looked fake, looked evil. The walls were beginning to crumble, wallpaper stripping off to reveal rotten walls – bloodstained walls.

              “We should go,” he whispered, fear climbing up his throat. Hank glanced back at him, then noticed his LED circling red.

              “Hey, Connor. You’re safe,” he said, and Connor nodded. But he couldn’t make himself believe that.

              “Please Hank,” he asked. Hank sighed.

              “Alright.” He nodded to the woman. “Thank you, but I should get him home.”

              “I understand – we’ll be sure to call you once we know more, Lieutenant.”

              Hank led Connor away and the android glanced back in time to see the receptionist’s face distort into an angry snarl, her lips stained blue from blood. He shuddered, telling himself again that it wasn’t real.

              The trip home was silent, Connor sitting miserably in the passenger seat. He calmed down as they drove, his LED settling to yellow.

              He was almost scared to enter the house once they arrived home, the memory of Sumo lying still on the floor burned into his mind. Hank glanced back at him as he opened the door.

              “Connor, come on,” he said. “It’s fine.” Connor nodded, forcing a smile.

              “I’m alright,” he said, quickly moving inside. He still tensed as he entered the door, but nothing was out of place and Sumo greeted them with a small borf before turning back to his nap.

              The rest of the evening past without event (unless you counted the small bird that kept flying around the roof, or the overflowing bathtub. But neither of those were real – according to Hank.) Connor finally felt himself relax, his LED shifting back to blue as he settled onto the couch for the night, Sumo curled up on top of him.

              “You sure you’re gonna be alright?” Hank asked before he headed to bed. Connor nodded.

              “I will be fine,” he said. “Get your sleep, Lieutenant – I’ll see you in the morning.” Hank grunted but moved into his room.

              Despite his reassurances to Hank, Connor didn’t manage to settle enough for his sleep cycle to take full effect for a long time. His mind was working too fast and the shadows in the corner of the room too real. But Sumo’s solid weight and regular breathing eventually calmed him enough to get the rest and recharge he needed.

              The next two days they both spent at home. Connor’s fears eventually began to fade as the days passed with his mind conjuring up nothing worse than a few small animals running through the house and plants growing through the floorboards.

              On the third day, Hank stumbled out to the living room, muttering under his breath.

              “Are you alright, Hank?” Connor asked, looking up from where he was feeding Sumo. A small handful of dog pellets grew legs and walked away but he ignored them. There was no way _that_ could be real.

              “Yeah, yeah,” Hank muttered, grabbing the fresh coffee Connor had prepared from the table and taking a long sip. “I gotta go in today, something’s come up. You’ll be alright on your own?”

              Connor hesitate. Usually, he wouldn’t mind staying at home while Hank went to work (he had done it once before when Sumo was very sick) but the thought of Hank leaving filled him with an irrational fear.

              “I – I’m sure I could come with you,” he said. The room felt darker and he suddenly didn’t want to stay here anymore. Hank frowned.

              “You sure that’s a good idea?” he asked. “You’re still seein’ stuff that’s not real.”

              “I – I know,” he said. He glanced around nervously, as if expecting something to jump out at him. “But I’m sure I can function well enough to leave the house for a while. If you’re concerned I can stay in the car.”

              Hank frowned, then seemed to see Connor’s fear and sighed.

              “Alright. Fine. Just… be careful.”

              “I will be fine,” Connor said. Hank grunted, downing the last of his coffee before leaving, Connor close on his heels.

              They arrived at a rundown part of town, a empty building site rising up out of the houses around. Chris greeted Hank as he stepped out of the car and Connor could hear him briefing Hank on the case through the glass. He watched as they moved through the abandoned building equipment and settled himself down to wait.

              He felt uneasy. Like something wasn’t right. Taking a deep breath, he told himself it was nothing. Only the virus, forcing him to see the world in a different way – a frightening way. The building site was unsettlingly quiet. Hank had vanished from view and Connor suddenly felt very alone. Maybe he should have stayed at home – at least then he would have had Sumo.

              “There is nothing to be frightened of,” he told himself as dark clouds began to billow overhead. He glanced up as lightning flashed through the sky – silent.

              He caught sight of Hank again and calmed a little. Then something caught his eye that caused all the fear to return.

              He could only watch as a man charge at Hank, knife in hand. Hank stumbled back, caught by surprise and grabbed at the attacker’s arm. But he was too slow and to Connor’s horror the knife slide into his belly.

              The attacker jerked the knife out, blood spraying from the wound. Hank staggered back, his hands reaching weakly over the blood, turning red.

              Connor was out of the car before it even crossed his mind that this wasn’t real. He ran across the rubble, stumbling and slipping. The attacker turned and, catching sight of him, darted away. Connor let him go.

              He stopped, standing over Hank. This couldn’t be real. This was his mind, making things up again. He closed his eyes, pressing his hands into them hard enough to see static. This wasn’t real.

              Hank was gasping for breath, hands trying to stop the flow of blood. Connor didn’t know what to do – didn’t know if he _should_ do anything.   
  
              Where was Hank? If this was all in his mind where was Hank? Hank would be here soon. Hank would tell what was real.

              But no one came. Connor was shaking, his LED flashing red. He didn’t know what to do – didn’t know what was real. He dropped to his knees and let out a sob.

              “I don’t know what’s real,” he whispered to himself. Hank’s bloody hand reached out towards him.

              “Connor,” he breathed, his voice strained. Connor shook his head. This couldn’t be real. This _couldn’t_ be real. Hank would be here. Hank would be here, just like he had been before. This wasn’t real.

              “You’re not real,” he whispered, shaking. Where was Hank?

              A shout for a medic caught his attention and he looked up to see Chris, rushing towards him. He bent over Hank, cursing.

              “What happened?” he demanded, turning on Connor. Connor stared back at him blankly, unsure of what was going on. Was Chris part of his imagination as well? Where was Hank! “Connor! I know you’ve not been doing well lately but he needs help – and fast.” Chris knelt beside Hank, supporting him and helping him up. Hank groaned weakly, his eyes flickering.

              “You’re not real,” Connor whispered. “You’re not real.” That was the only explanation. Hank couldn’t have been that badly hurt. That couldn’t happen. Chris glanced back at him, struggling with Hank’s weight. A few other officers were rushing to them now and one of them took Hank’s weight from Chris.

              “Connor, we gotta go,” he said. He held out a hand and Connor slowly lifted his own shaking arm. He allowed himself to be pulled upright (could that happen if it wasn’t real? But no. This had to be in his mind.)

              He didn’t focus on his surroundings, allowing himself to be led to a car and driven away from the building site. Why wasn’t Hank coming for him? Was it possible that it hadn’t been imaginary? That it was real.

              He closed his eyes and the image of Hank staggering back, blood staining his shirt flashed through his mind. No. No that _couldn’t_ be real.

              Hank could die from a wound like that.

              They arrived at the hospital, and he was aware of people rushing, shouting – a bed moving past him. He thought he saw Hank, lying limply on the bed as it was rushed by, but that wasn’t real.

              Right?

              Was this all in his mind or was this real. Either sounded equally as bad.

              He needed Hank. Hank could calm him. Hank knew what was real. Hank would ground him. But he felt like he was floating and no one was there to pull him down.

              Then a nurse appeared in front of him.

              “You’re Connor, right? Hank Anderson’s android?” he asked, and Connor nodded dumbly. Even if this was all just imaginary he didn’t know what else to do. “Come with me. We’ve a room you can stay until you’re feeling better.” Connor hesitated, unsure if he wanted to. Then he took a deep breath. If this wasn’t real, it wouldn’t matter. And if it was, he was in a hospital – people in hospitals were there to help.

              So he followed the nurse down the halls and into a small room.

              “You’ll be comfortable enough here,” the nurse said. “It’s safer for you to stay here until you’re better – alright?” Connor nodded, not really caring anymore. He moved into the door and watched as it closed behind him.

              He dropped onto the bed, staring at his still shaking hands. Why hadn’t Hank come yet? Why had Hank abandoned him to the demons of his mind? His LED was still flashing red, he was unable to calm himself enough for it to stabilise.

              He pulled his legs onto the bed, wrapping his arms around them and closing his eyes. He was real. He was real. Maybe the world around him wasn’t but he could feel his own body as he hugged himself.

              Where was Hank?

 

              Time seemed non-existent as Connor sat in his room. Waiting. What for, he didn’t know. He spent most of his time huddle on his bed, his eyes shut against the horrors his mind had summoned up for him.

              People visited him often – and some were probably real. But they all looked like monsters, faces distorted or bleeding, eyes pitch black. How long was this going to last – how long was he going to float, unable to tell if the nurse handing him a bag of blue blood was real or not.

              And where was Hank?

              Every time he closed his eyes he saw the same thing; Hank, collapsing as blood crept over his hands, Hank, lying on the ground, reaching weakly for Connor, Hank – dying.

              What if it had been real and Connor had done nothing?

              That thought became louder and louder the longer Connor found himself in this room. What if he had watched Hank die? What if he had been able to do something? What if Hank had been begging for help he never gave?   
  
              What if it had been real?

              His internal clock said he had been at the hospital for three days (but that could be wrong. He couldn’t tell anymore) when the door opened and the nurse who ahd leg him here entered the room.

              “How are you feeling today?” he asked, and Connor eyed him suspiciously. Nothing seemed off about him, but his mere presence could be imagined. “The Lieutenant has woken up, do you want to see him?” Connor looked up, hope bursting through him.

              “Hank?” he asked, speaking the first words he had the whole time he had been here. He didn’t care if it was imagined or not – he wanted to see Hank. The nurse nodded and Connor stood.

              He followed the nurse down a number of halls, ignoring the creatures that whispered from the wall and the fanged grins other people shot at him. That wasn’t real. Finally, they arrived at a door and the nurse stopped.

              “He’s weak, so keep it short, alright? But he’s been asking to see you.”

              Connor nodded, not sure what to say. He pushed the door open and stepped inside.

              Hank was lying on a hospital bed, his face pale and drained. He looked weak, like he was barely alive.

              But the sight of him immediately made Connor feel better – grounded him. Everything felt so much more real and the shadows creeping at the corners of his vision faded.

              “Connor?” Hank asked, looking up. Connor rushed to his side, tears prickling his eyes.

              “I’m sorry,” he said, gripping Hank’s hand. “I’m sorry. I should have done something. I should have. I didn’t know. I –”

              “Oh, shuddup,” Hank growled, laying his other hand over Connor’s. “I’m alive, aren’t I?” Connor nodded, blinking back tears.

              “But you nearly weren’t. You nearly died.”

              “Hey – it’s not your fault. Understand, kid? Don’t blame yourself.”

              Connor nodded, his LED finally fading back to yellow.

              “I – I can’t tell anymore,” Connor whimpered. “I don’t know if you’re even real.”

              Hank gripped his hand, looking him in the eye.

              “Feel me, kid. I’m real. I’m here.”

              And Connor believed him. Hank was here. Hank was here.

              “I’m scared, Hank,” he said quietly. “I can’t believe what I see. I can’t believe anything.”

              “You’re gonna be alright,” Hank said. “I’ll make sure of it.” He squeezed Connor’s hand as the android wiped his eye with the other.

“Believe me, alright, son? I’m real. And you're going to be okay." 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: this chapter has a fair bit of blood, though not human blood. imsorryconnor

               The cure was finally ready, not long after Hank had been released from the hospital. Connor felt himself relax, felt the stress and fear of the past few weeks fade as the cure was injected directly into his thirium pump, the blue blood taking it through his body and destroying the virus.

              “Alright, you should be good now,” the nurse said, packing his things up. “No more monsters in the night, eh?”  Connor buttoned his shirt again, smiling at him.           

              “Thank you,” he said.

              “Hope I don’t see you again here!” the nurse called after him as he followed Hank out of the building. He felt free – free and safe. He knew everything around him was _real_. He could believe his senses again.

              It was a relief, so much that he couldn’t quite process the emotions welling up in him. Hank glanced over at him as he drove.

              “You good?” Hank asked. Connor nodded – despite the strange swarming of emotions he was experiencing he felt good.

              “I’m very good,” he said.

              He was free.

              Life went back to normal after that. Nothing strange appeared in Connor’s vision, nothing that caused him to think that maybe he was imaging things again.

              They were called out about a week later to investigate a homicide. It seemed simple enough; a woman working at a spare-parts shop murdered and the shop ransacked. A large number of parts had been stolen.

              Connor moved around the crime scene, piecing together the story. It felt good to be working again after so long trapped by his own fear, it felt good to be doing something again. He focused on the job, analysing all the clues he could.

              He regrouped with Hank and they compared what they had found. There wasn’t much – whoever had broken into the shop had covered their tracks well.

              “I’m going to check the warehouse out the back,” Connor said. “Maybe there’s some more clues there.” Hank nodded and Connor made his way through the small back door.

              The warehouse wasn’t big, a maximum of two large shelves spanning the room. Connor stepped inside, alert for danger. He stepped around the first shelve, noticing that most of the boxes of parts were untouched.

              Something moved and he spun towards it, LED flashing yellow briefly. He drew his gun and slowly made his way towards the sound.

              Rounding the shelf, he caught sight of a figure, crouched in the shadows. He levelled his weapon.

              “Alright, come out,” he said shortly. The figure stood slowly, revealing a BS300 android.

              “You’re still letting them enslave you,” he snarled.  “Letting them leech off our need for parts. These are ours – we shouldn’t have to pay for them!” Then, almost too fast for Connor to follow, he withdrew a gun and fired.

              Connor staggered back with a grunt, the bullet slamming into his side. Warnings flashed behind his eyes but he paid them no head, rushing forward. He grabbed the hand holding the gun in his, pushing the android back. With his other hand, he spun his gun and slammed the butt of it into the android’s head. He collapsed.

              Connor stumbled back, leaning on the wall with one hand pressed to the wound. It wasn’t a deadly wound – it was something that would heal quickly enough given time. But it hurt.

              He looked down at his hand, stained with blue blood. But something wasn’t right. Black flecks speckled the blood, looking evil and unnatural.

              He slid down the wall and ripped his shirt open, examine the wound. His heart began beating quickly and he fought back panic as he stared at his side.

              Spreading out slowly from the bullet hole were lines of snaking black – something was inside his thirium. He could already tell it wasn’t good. He had to stop it from reaching his thirium pump – if that happened the poison – for he could tell that was what it was – would be rapidly spread throughout his body.

              He forced himself to stay calm, grabbing the nearest thing he could – a knife on the unconscious android’s belt. He turned his synthetic skin off, revealing the white plastic underneath. Opening his chest, he could see the black poison moving sluggishly through one of his thirium pipes – dangerously close to his pump.

              “Connor? What’s going on?” Hank’s voice called from the door and he glanced up. Hank was moving through the storeroom, rounding the corner. He stopped when he caught sight of Connor “What’re you doing?”

              He didn’t answer, needed to stop the spread of the poison. Taking a deep breath, he grabbed the pipe containing the poison and pulled sharply. 

              Hank swore sharply and warnings filled his vision as the thirium seeped out of the now loose hanging pipe. He dismissed the warnings, pushing back the sudden thoughts of the thousands of ways this could go wrong.

              “What the hell, Connor?” Hank demanded, dropping down beside him. “What are you doing.”

              “I have it under control,” Connor said, ignoring the pain flashing through him. He had to stop the poison – thirium could be replaced.

              He turned his attention to the source – the bullet. Clutching the knife, he readied himself to gouge the small piece of metal out of him.

              “Woah, hey, hey, Connor what are you doing?” Hank said, grabbing his hand. The blackness was spreading up his side – at least it wasn’t going in the direction of his thirium pump. Yet.

              “I need to remove the bullet,” he said, trying to remain calm. He didn’t want to rip a bullet out of his skin with a knife, but he wanted to die even less. And if he didn’t remove the bullet soon the poison would take over his whole body and kill him.

              “Not like this, okay? What’s got into you?”

              Couldn’t Hank see? Couldn’t he see the evil black liquid that was escaping his body from the hanging pipe in place of the thirium? Couldn’t he see the spiderweb of black climbing his side?

              _Maybe it’s not real_.

              The thought flashed through his mind, causing his panic to rise. No. No – this _had_ to be real. It had to be real because if it wasn’t real the cure hadn’t worked. If it wasn’t real he couldn’t believe anything again. If it wasn’t real he would have to go back to fearing his own shadow.

              He shook Hank’s hand off him and turned back to the bullet, digging the blade into his side before Hank could react. Hank swore again, lunging forward to grab his hand.

              “Connor – what are you doing?”

              “I have to stop the flow of poison,” Connor said, struggling to keep his voice steady. _Please say you can see it. Please._ “I need to remove the bullet so no more poison enters my system.

              “Poison? What poison? Connor stop it – you’re damaging yourself.”

              “You can see it, right?” He looked up at Hank, ignoring the pain and warning signs, ignoring the blood that was pooling around them, ignoring everything but Hank. What if it wasn’t real? What if he couldn’t believe his own senses again? What if the cure hadn’t worked.

              “I – I’m sorry, kid. There’s no poison.”

              The knife clattered from his hand and tears pickled his eye. That couldn’t be true. No. The cure had worked. He had been able to believe his own senses again. The cure had _worked._

              “Hey, Connor – you good?”

              His LED was flashing red and he was beginning to feel dizzy from the thirium he had lost. His mind was spinning, dread filling his body. The cure had worked.

              “The cure worked,” he whispered aloud. “It worked – this is real.” Maybe Hank was playing a prank on him. Maybe Hank was just confused. He didn’t dare look back at the wounds, scared they would show pure, clean, untainted thirium.

              Hank’s face softened.

              “I’m sorry, kid,” he said. “I don’t think it did – at least not fully. I can’t see any poison”

              Connor couldn’t handle that. The tears started flowing and he shook his head. He would have to go back. He would have to go back to fearing his shadows, to not knowing if what he saw was actually there.

              He staggered to his feet, supporting himself on the wall. The world spun for a moment as he did and he leaned on the wall. Hank stood with him, hovering nervously.

              “Hey, we need to get you fixed up – okay?”

              Connor didn’t answer, just fitted the loose pipe back into his thirium pump numbly, barely aware of what he was doing. Some of the warning signs faded as he did, but he was still losing thirium from the bullet wound and cut.

              He ran. He pushed past Hank and ran, rushing through the building, rushing outside. The cure hadn’t worked. The cure hadn’t worked.

              He collapsed to the ground outside, tears dripping down his face. He couldn’t go back to fearing, couldn’t go back to that dark room, that endless fear that had gripped him. He couldn’t. He had been free – had been able to know what he saw and felt was real. But now – now he wasn’t even sure if the pavement he was kneeling on was real.

              “Connor!” Hank was beside him, crouching. He laid a hand on Connor’s back, warm, solid – real.      

              At least it felt like that. Connor didn’t know anymore.

              “I can’t,” he whispered, looking up, his face wet with tears. “I can’t – I’m so scared.”

              How could he do anything if he wasn’t able to believe what he saw? How could he work? How could he help Hank? Hank was going to not want him around anymore, Hank was going to throw him out and he would be alone on the streets.

              He was panicking, his stress levels rising rapidly. How could he have a place in the world if he didn’t know what was real?

              “Calm down, kid,” Hank said, his voice steady. He sounded calm, sounded understanding. But was he really? Was he pretending? How long would it be until Hank grew tired of Connor freaking out? How long would it be before Connor freaking out got him hurt?

              “No. No – I…” His low levels of thirium were making it hard to focus. He blinked, shaking his head. Pain throbbed through him, but that wasn’t what was making his LED flash an angry red.

              “You’re alright.” Hank’s hand was comforting on his shoulder. “Let’s get you home and we can figure out what to do next, okay?”

              No. No – Connor didn’t want to do that. He didn’t want Hank to have to babysit him. He didn’t want to stress Hank even more. He didn’t want to be a bother to Hank.

              “No – I don’t want. I – I can’t. You…”

              “Shuddup,” Hank said. “Let’s get you patched up and filled with thirium and contact the hospital to get more information – alright?”

              “No. You – you…”

              He couldn’t take it anymore. He struggled to his feet, one hand pressed over his bleeding side.

              “Hey, hey Connor!” Hank called, but he didn’t listen, running. He ran, ran with no real idea of where he was going. He ran, wanting to get away. Because it was inevitable – Hank would grow tired of having to care for him. And this way he knew Hank was safe. So he ran, stumbling, tripping, staggering.

              He stopped finally, collapsing in the shade of a building. He leaned his head back, tears still falling. He was shaking, shivering both from pain and panic.

              Maybe he could find a cure for himself. But how could he do that if he didn’t know what was real? No – he had to go far away, where it didn’t matter what was real – where he wouldn’t cause anyone to be hurt.

              “I don’t want to,” he whispered. He was scared – terrified – at the thought of having to face this alone, the thought of having to go through that fear and uncertainty again. The thought of never seeing Hank again.

              He didn’t move for a long time, trying to calm his shaking body enough to get up and go. But he couldn’t, couldn’t make himself take that final step. He was so scared, so afraid of a life in fear – alone.

              “Connor!”

              He glanced up, looking in the direction of the call. Hank was jogging towards him, looking out of breath. This wasn’t supposed to happen – he was supposed to be gone. He needed to be gone. Hank would try to bring him back.

              Or maybe Hank was following him to send him away for good.

              “There you are,” Hank said, followed by a curse. “Why’d you run off? You could have been hurt, the state you’re in.”

              Connor didn’t answer. Why was he such a coward? He should have left, should have thought of the needs of his friends before his fear.

              “Connor, hey,” Hank’s voice softened and he laid his hands on Connor’s shoulders. “We’ll figure it out, alright?”

              “Will we?” he asked, quietly. “We did. We had the cure. But it didn’t work.” His eyes prickled with fresh tears and he angrily rubbed at them with his hand, smearing blood across his face. “I’m never going to be normal again.”

              “Don’t talk like that,” Hank said, squeezing his shoulders. “The cure helped – right? So it’s only a matter of time before a cure that really works is found.”

              “I’m scared, Hank,” Connor said, meeting Hank’s eyes. “I’m so scared. I don’t want to be jumping at my own shadows. I don’t want to think you’re going to hurt me or… or not know if you’re actually hurt. I’m scared that you’re going to get tired of looking after me and throw me out. I’m so scared.” He blinked, trying to stop the tears, trying to stop the words, but he couldn’t.

              Hank pulled him into a hug and he sniffed, wrapping his arms around the older man, closing his eyes, ignoring the whisper in the back of his head that said this wasn’t real.

              “I’d never,” Hank said quietly. “You’re family, kid. I’m not gonna throw you out. Come on.” He stood, holding out a hand for Connor. Hesitantly, Connor took the hand and allowed Hank to help him up. “I know you’re scared, kid. I couldn’t imagine how hard this could be. But I’m right here, and I’ll help you. And there’s people workin’ on a cure right now – before long this’ll all just be a bad memory. An’ until then we’ll figure out ways to help you cope, alright?”

              Connor nodded, his panic calmed for now. He wasn’t going to get his hopes up for a cure again – but maybe he could learn to live with the dancing shadows and lying senses. Maybe – maybe he could learn to live without the fear that came with them.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick warning - Sumo gets hurt a little, nothing serious though.

              Connor had to admit it was easier to deal with this time. It seemed the cure had helped somewhat, making what hallucinations he saw easier to distinguish from reality, or at least less intense. The lies his mind told him still scared him though, figures flickering in the corners of his eye, monsters glaring at him with red eyes. Reality wasn’t being manipulated so much as things being projected into the world. He stayed at home again and for the first few days, Hank stayed with him. But, like last time, that could only last for a short amount of time.

              Hank muttered a curse as his phone went off for the fourth time during the movie they were watching. He retrieved the phone from the arm of the sofa and checked it. Another muttered curse. Connor paused the movie from where he sat, freezing Will Smith on the screen as he spoke to Sunny the robot.

              “Sorry Connor,” Hank said, hauling himself out of the sofa. “I gotta go in, Jeffery’s on my ass about a case and I need to deal with it.”

              “That’s okay,” Connor said.

              “You sure you’ll be okay?” Hank asked. Connor nodded.

              “I can finish the movie and Sumo and I can hang out here,” he said. He didn’t want a repeat of last time he had left the house with Hank on a case. “Besides, if anything does happen I can call you easily enough.”

              Hank nodded, muttering something under his breath.

              “We need to get the real cure soon,” he said, a little louder. Connor couldn’t agree more.

              He couldn’t focus on the movie after Hank had left, feeling on edge. He had discovered over the past few days that the hallucinations got worse the higher his stress level, so he tried to calm himself, breathing regularly, even though he didn’t need breath. But he hadn’t been alone since the last time something big had happened, and he was worried that something else would happen now that Hank wasn’t here.

              Sumo, seeming to sense his worry, leapt onto the sofa beside him, dropping his head onto Connor’s lap and looking up at the android with big eyes. Connor smiled, his stress lowering a little as he ran his hand through the dog’s fur.

              “Hey boy,” he said. “Just me and you for a bit, huh?” The dog let out a low bark, thumping his tail on the cushions.

              With Sumo’s comforting weight on Connor’s lap, the android was able to relax and focus on the movie. It was an engaging movie, and he found himself somewhat disappointed when it came to an end. He turned off the tv and scratched Sumo, who had fallen asleep, behind the ears. The dog yawned but seemed to have no intentions of moving.

              Connor glanced towards the window in the kitchen – the sun was beginning to set, casting a straight light into the house. It made Connor nervous, and he suddenly didn’t want to be pinned under the bulk of a large Saint Bernard.

              “Sorry boy, time to get off,” he said, gently shoving the complaining dog onto the floor. Sumo let out a huff and padded to his bed, dropping to the ground and resting his head on his paws. He seemed to be glaring at Connor, and the android tried not to feel guilty.

              “Sorry Sumo,” he said, crouching to pet the dog. “I have to be able to move.”

              Sumo didn’t answer him, just giving another huff and closing his eyes. Connor smiled slightly, scratching his ear before he stood.

              He was restless and, catching sight of the pile of unwashed dishes beside the sink, decided he wanted to do something. So, he made his way into the kitchen and began cleaning up. He had decided a while ago that he quite liked cleaning, but today he couldn’t quite settle. Something was putting him on edge and he didn’t know what.

              He focused on the dishes, on the water on his skin and the satisfaction of removing the grime from a plate. But something shifted in the corner of his vision. He glanced up, looking out the window.

              A figure stood directly outside the window, silhouetted by the sun, eyes glowing red. Connor stumbled back from the sink, heart pounding quickly. The cup he was holding slipped from his hands and shattered on the floor, shards of glass spreading across the kitchen.

              Connor closed his eyes, trying to slow his heartbeat, to lower his stress. It worked to an extent, and when he opened them again the figure was gone. But somehow that made it worse – what if it was still out there?

              “It’s not real,” he muttered to himself as he shakily began sweeping the glass shards together. “It’s not real.”  

              He couldn’t calm himself fully, still tense and alert for any sign of the strange figure, though he knew it couldn’t possibly be real. Who would want to break into a police officer’s house? Besides that, how could anyone’s eyes glow like that?

              He told himself to calm down – even if there was someone outside the house Connor was confident that he would be able to take him. He was a prototype android, designed specifically for combat and investigation after all. A simple break in would be an easy thing to deal with.

              But something was off, something was wrong. He couldn’t settle, kept waiting for something to happen. Maybe it was because he hadn’t been alone for a long time, maybe it was because something _was_ wrong. Or maybe it was his mind, lying to him again.

              Forcing himself to ignore the sense of unease, he turned back to the dishes, sinking his hands into the warm water. But it felt strange – thick, sticky. Frowning, his LED spinning yellow, Connor glanced down at the sink.

              He stumbled back again, letting out a gasp. The water was water no longer - instead, the dirty plates and cups sat in a sink full of blood. Raising a shaking hand, Connor saw that it was also stained red from the blood.

              “Not real,” he told himself, but his stress levels were rising, creeping up higher and higher, making it hard to focus on anything but his fear.

              He didn’t want to do this – he didn’t want to have to be babysat. If he couldn’t stay at home alone, Hank would stay with him, and if that happened Hank couldn’t work. That couldn’t happen. Connor had to get control of himself, had to calm himself.

              He braced himself against the sink, closing his eyes and focusing on what he knew what real. The fabric of his shirt on his back. The floor beneath his feet. The edge of the bench under his hands. His stress levels lowered a little, but they were still dangerously high. He was unable to get below 60%.

              A bark pulled him out of his thoughts and he jerked upright, turning to see what Sumo was calling for. But instead of seeing Sumo, a horrifying monster stood across the room. It was shaped like a dog, its fur pitch black and smoky, eyes glowing red.

              Connor stumbled back, stress levels rising again and LED burning red. He found himself wedged in the corner of the kitchen, unable to look away from the beats as it stalked towards him. His fear was too much – he couldn’t focus on anything, couldn’t calm himself, could only think of the monster hunting him.

              He reached desperately for a weapon on the bench, anything to protect him from this creature. It came closer, teeth sharp, eyes glowing evilly. Finally, Connor’s hand closed over a knife handle and he whipped it in front of him, clutching it tightly.

              “S-stay back,” he said. He knew this couldn’t be real, but his fear was too much, he couldn’t think straight. The creature paused, as though surveying if he was worth it. Then it growled and lunged forward.

              Connor couldn’t think. He acted on instinct, throwing his arm out wildly and shutting his eyes. The knife met its mark and he felt the resistance, heard the loud yelp of pain from the animal. Slowly, shaking slightly, he opened his eyes, sliding down the bench to the floor.

              The monster was nowhere to be seen. Instead, a few drops of blood were splattered on the floor and Sumo was nowhere to be seen. The knife clattered from Connor’s hand, landing on the floor with a deafening sound.

              “Sumo?” he called, slowly pushing himself up. “Where are you boy?”

              A low whimper from the other room answered him and Connor hurried to find the dog. Sumo was curled in his bed, droplets of blood surrounding him. Connor dropped to his knees beside him, but the dog whimpered and shifted away from him, fear in his eyes. A large, fresh cut was visible on his snout.

              The world seemed to spin as Connor stared at Sumo. What had he done? He had hurt Sumo – he could have killed Sumo.

              “I – I’m sorry, boy,” he said softly. Sumo whimpered again.

              He could have killed Sumo.

              How could he keep doing this? He wasn’t safe to be around. He couldn’t go with Hank to work in his state, and he couldn’t stay at home with Sumo. Hank couldn’t stay at home with him all the time, and he couldn’t find help anywhere else. Where else could he go? Certainly not Jericho – he didn’t want to expose the androids there to the virus.

              He stood, stepping back from the dog. The wound wouldn’t kill him – it didn’t even appear to need stitches. Sumo would recover just fine. But if something like that happened again… If Connor wasn’t able to tell what was happening, if he had really tried to kill what he had thought was a monster...

              Well, that could have been another story entirely.

              “I have to leave,” he said softly, not sure who he was talking to. It was the only thing he could do. He couldn’t stay, not like this. He had to leave, had to let Hank and Sumo continue without him. It was better than hurting them.

              He moved to the door, not needing to pack any belongings – he didn’t need anything. He had to leave. But as he laid a hand on the doorknob fear filled him. Being alone and unable to tell what was real or not terrified him.

              But no. A look back into the house, the hurt dog and blood specks on the floor reminded him of what he had done – of what he _might_ do. Last time he had been too much of a coward to leave and Sumo had been hurt as a result. He couldn’t make that same mistake again.

              So, he turned the knob and opened the door, stepping out into the cool evening and began walking. Away from home. Away from comfort. Away from family.

              A whimper came from behind him and he turned to see Sumo, standing in the door.

              “Sumo, no,” he said. “Go inside.”

              The dog whined, stepping towards him.

              “No, you can’t come with me,” Connor said. He blinked, his vision suddenly blurry. Sumo didn’t turn back. “Sumo. Go. Home!” Connor snapped, stepping towards the dog. Sumo _couldn’t_ come with him.

              The dog let out a yelp of fear and scrambled back inside. Connor stepped after him to pull the door shut so he couldn’t follow. Then he turned and continued his exile.

              Who had thought it was a good idea to give android the ability to cry?

*~*

 

              It was late when Hank returned home. The case had proved harder than expected and he had needed to work overtime, much to his annoyance. It was clear Fowler had wanted to make more progress before turning in for the night, but Hank had annoyed everyone so much he had been sent home.

              He pushed the door open and stepped into the dark house. Frowning, he flicked the light on as he shrugged off his coat and hung it up.

              “Connor?” he called. The kid didn’t sleep much, so why would he have turned the lights off? Hank had been expecting to see him waiting up, maybe watching another movie. Instead, silence greeted him. Silence and – was that blood?

              A trail of blood led from the kitchen into the living room, to Sumo’s bed.

              “Sumo?” Hank called, his worry and concern growing. He slowly drew his gun, unsure if someone had broken in or another story was behind the silence.

              But a bark answered him, and Sumo padded out of the bathroom. Hank relaxed a little, lowering the gun and greeting the dog. But where was Connor?

              Then he noticed – noticed the fresh wound on Sumo’s snout. And things started making sense. The blood. The half-finished dishes. The knife on the ground. Connor’s absence.

              He cursed, loudly, and leapt to his feet, startling Sumo. Grabbing his coat, the lieutenant hurried outside in the vain hope that Connor hadn’t gone far. There was no sign of the android in the dim street and he cursed again.

              “Connor!” he shouted, hoping to see the android appear. Silence answered his shout. Connor was gone.


End file.
